


Where the Light Gets In

by lousy_science



Series: The Does What it Says on the Tin series [6]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 01:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lousy_science/pseuds/lousy_science
Summary: Hotel room smut: the morning after.





	Where the Light Gets In

Collins was still asleep when Farrier peeled open the curtains. The glass of the windows were dirty, and he couldn’t make out the details of the street five stories below them. There was just a blush of morning light outside, and with the curtains open, the two of them would sneak themselves a little bit more sun than the people down there would get. He’d turned the lamps off, so the room was mostly shadows still. 

Lying back down he looked over to the other side of the bed. Collins slept on his side, his hair fanning over the pillow under him, the curve of his neck to shoulder long and sinuous. He had a some freckles on that shoulder that Farrier had never seen before, like the ones dotted on his arms. Farrier lay back, planning to remember the placement of those freckles and watch the sun creep over the window ledge to show them to him again.

Instead he drowsed off. His dreams moved from thoughts of his lad next to him, to the men he’d met on the docks in Amsterdam, to his time in Berlin, and all the beautiful boys he’d known there. When he woke he was still there, wondering where they were now. Things were so much more dangerous now. 

The sound of cheerful whistling woke him. Collins was standing at the washbasin, starkers, the sunlight bright on his freshly-scrubbed skin. All pinked up and clean. Farrier blinked away the grogginess of last night’s drinks and exertions, and noticed that there was a glass of water on the table at his side of the bed next to his wristwatch. 

Rubbing his face, he felt the grit of sleep in his eyes and swung his legs out of bed, making his way to the WC. He smacked Collins on the arse and told him to get back to bed, and heard laughter behind him through the open bathroom door. 

Taking a long piss, he looked in the mirror and did a little mental arithmetic. There was plenty of time. He’d be able to have a proper shave, check out, walk Collins and his new shoes over to Mabel’s Cafe for a full English, and then swing through Green Park before getting the train back. Getting things right on time was important to Farrier, he’d learned that working in the shipyards, getting his first experience with engines and making things work properly. 

Through the open door he could hear Collins flopping back down on top of the covers, kicking his legs out infront of him and stretching wide over the sheets. Farrier walked to the door frame to get a good look, and there he was, stretched out from tip to toe, his arms folded under his head, skin lit up by the morning’s arrival. As soon as he noticed Farrier’s eyes, he laughed and blushed, hands moving back up to wrap around his chest as he smiled broadly. “Good morning, then.”

On his chest tight nipples sat over firm muscles, rouge nubs on a pale background, the lines of his ribs neat like church pews leading to the shallow bowl of a belly. His hip bones stood out from the roundness of his arse and thighs, more solid than they seemed at first glance.

His legs splayed open to frame his prick and balls. They were dusted with reddish-blond curls, as were his strong, long legs. 

Under Farrier’s eyes Collins had a touch of nerves, seen in his hands, which couldn’t rest. He still didn’t know to reach up for what he wanted, so they roamed over his body, glancing over the rib cage and those perfectly round nipples. 

Kneeling down by the bed, Farrier scooped Collins head off the mattress with one hand and brought their faces together to kiss. A long, wet kiss, something to let Collins know he was chosen. 

Hands carded through his hair, keeping him close. Collins smelt of soap and last night’s cigarettes. Farrier licked deeply into his mouth as he kept them pressed together. When he broke the kiss, he kept his hand anchored behind Collins’s head. “Good morning.”

“Mmm,” Collins was licking his lips. Farrier could see that his stubble had aggravated the newly-shaved skin on his chin, noting with satisfaction that he was even pinker now. 

Getting up from his knees he shoved Collins to the middle of the bed, sitting down hip-to-hip with him. Collins’s hands had gotten braver, and were moving over Farrier’s arms, pulling him back down. But he sat looming over him for a little time. Just long enough to enjoy the view of Collins’s hard-on growing thicker and the blush spreading further over his chest. 

Dipping his head down, Farrier kissed the top of his prick, then moved up to gnaw a little at the folds of Collins’s tummy as he folded up, in enthusiasm or shock, it was hard to tell from the noises he was making. 

Laying his body down over him, Farrier pressed his thighs either side of Collins’s, letting their combined weight make the bed springs creak as they just moved together in an eager, sloppy morning rhythm of need and want. Collins was bucking and shoving under him, a bundle of greed, while Farrier just enjoyed the ride for a little longer. He didn’t let Collins get a grip on him, skidding away from his clasp to get his own hands back under those improbably-freckled shoulders. 

Collins flipped over easily, saying something like “Please, please,” and rutting his hips against the eiderdown. Farrier moved him around some more. He got Collins to grasp onto the bars of the bedstead and propped him up on his knees. There were more freckles on his lower back, which was covered in a light velvety fuzz, and Farrier kissed the two dimples in the curve of his back. He was on his knees, too, his hands cataloging Collins from shoulder down to where the muscle of his thighs tucked under the flesh of his round arse. 

Like the rest of Collins, more solid than you’d guess from first impressions. Farrier rubbed his thumbs into the meat of the curve, swooping down to two knobby bones at the base of his spine, quietly marveling at the excellent architecture of Collins’s form. Under his hands, the skin was warm and malleable. Nudging Collins’s thighs open a little more Farrier moved closer, getting his lips back to those dimples. 

Collins hunched his shoulder blades up on his back, the skin stretching tight over the bones on his back as Farrier brought his thumbs to the top of his arse. More “Pleases” were uttered, more impatient sounds made, as Farrier pushed the crease wider. He breathed heavily over the sensitive skin there. Rosy pink flesh mottled around the white flesh where his thumbs were pressing in. Farrier moved his face to take one bite into each cheek, which made Collins laugh like a drain. 

That laughter was cut short with a sharp intake of breath. All Farrier had done was lay a wet kiss to the top of his crack, just inches away from his entrance. He opened his mouth wider, laving his tongue over the warm skin, his hands moving down to support Collins’s trembling thighs. 

Rubbing his face against the silky skin, he moved down, his lips open and wet. Collins huffed breathlessly, “You can’t - you - _you_ ,” above him, but when Farrier moved his hand between Collins’s legs, he established that Collins’s cock was hard and leaking where it bobbed under his belly. Giving it an affectionate squeeze, he licked down over the furl of hard muscle. 

Collins groaned, low and deep enough to send vibrations down through his body. His breaths were short and ragged as Farrier pointed his tongue down, pushing into his centre, letting the muscles flex and relax under his ministrations. Collins was thrusting back now, his back curled deeper, his hips titled open invitingly. 

Farrier hollowed his cheeks and sucked over the skin he’d been licking over, bringing the blood to the surface and making it even more sensitive. The metal bedstead rang out against the wall as Collins clung on, his body rocking back and forth. 

Kissing back in with more precision, Farrier let his lips and chin get wet with as much spit as he could make. Under his palms the back of Collins’s thighs were beading with sweat. Farrier was aware of every furrow of his lips, every patch of rough skin, the line distinguishing between gum and lip and chin, with the intensity of pressure against Collins’s rump. His tongue slipped in a tiny bit further into the tight grasp of his body. 

He thought of how the cords of Collins’s neck strained when he pushed his head back in pleasure, of how hard Collins worked to be the best flier he could be, of the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, of all the boys who took to the air who’d never made the return flight to base. 

Lifting up to rest his forehead on the flat of Collins’s back, Farrier took some deep breaths to ease out the catch in his throat. The body under him was shaking, pushed back as far as Collins could go. Farrier wrapped an arm around him and flipped them both to their sides, sticking his leg between sweaty thighs and guiding his own erection between Collins’s arse. He rubbed it down the spit-slick channel, his hips stuttering, more overcome than he’d realised. Gripping Collins close, he pulled his leg back over his own. They were sandwiched together, Collins with his chest pushed forward and heaving with exertion. 

Thinking of nothing but closeness, Farrier bit down on Collins’s shoulder. His hand was clamped on Collins’s hip, keeping the pressure tight between his arse cheeks where Farrier’s hard-on was thrusting in a rhythm as urgent as his heart beat. Moving it over his hip down to Collins’s cock he grasped at it desperately, and Collins reached down and curled his hand on top of it. 

Against his chest, Collins’s whole body drew tight as a bow, his head twisted back so far he almost knocked Farrier out. Between their clasped hands his seed was warm and wet. His body sagged forward, and Farrier moved back over him, still thrusting, until the heat in his guts uncurled and he fired his shot; Collins was going to need another wash, Farrier thought, looking at the come splashed over his lower back. 

Collins was moaning, murmuring, coming back to life slowly. Farrier sunk down next to him, petting his hair down into shape. 

“I didn’t know,” 

Farrier hummed into his neck. “What, hmm?”

“That you could do something like _that_.”

That made Farrier laugh. “Nothing about it in the RAF regulations.”

“You would check.” Collins stretched an arm out behind his head, cracking his neck. “Glad we weren’t breaking any rules, then.”

“No rules for us, lad. Just the laws of gravity, and suchlike.”

Looking down at him, Farrier noticed the teeth marks he’d made on Collins’s shoulder. They’d need to keep that under cover from prying eyes. He kissed it in apology. 

Together they lay on the bed a little longer. There was still time, Farrier thought, though he couldn’t bring himself to check his watch quite yet. But he thought they still had enough time before the door had to be opened back into the world. 


End file.
